


Interrupted Date

by Batsutousai



Series: Holiday Card Ficlets 2017 [7]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Temporary Character Death - Jack Harkness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-19 01:28:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13694034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batsutousai/pseuds/Batsutousai
Summary: Jack and Ianto's weekend away is interrupted by an alien that wants them dead.





	Interrupted Date

**Author's Note:**

> Every winter season, I send out cards to anyone willing to give me their address, and I decided two winters ago to start adding fic to the cards. This year, I settled on the very loose prompt of getting stuck in a cabin because of a snowstorm. Which some fics held to better than others, whoops. XD
> 
> Haha, I admit, I didn't rewatch any _Torchwood_ episodes, so assume no timeline and I'm in a constant state of worrying that Ianto, at least, is coming across as a bit ooc, but whatever.

Ianto was fairly certain that a date that ended up with him trapped in a broken down old house in an area without signal on his mobile, while his lover bled out on the floor, should not be counted as a win. Add in whatever weird alien thing had tried to kill them during their little stroll through the local wood, and it was actually more like an average Torchwood mission. Which this was _not_.

"We'll just get away for the weekend, Ianto," he said under his breath, doing his best impression of his boyfriend's voice. Which didn't come out anywhere near as cheerful as Jack had sounded when he suggested the trip. Not that it was intended to come out at _all_ cheerful. 

Jack let out a burble of blood, which could have been either an apology or a laugh, it was hard to tell when he was a bloody, shredded mess. 

Ianto would probably never get used to having an immortal boyfriend, and he would _definitely_ never get used to having to watch him die a thousand painful and gruesome ways. He had learnt that the slow ones – like now – were the worst, and he honestly wished, some days, that he could stomach helping the process along. But, immortal or no, killing his lover was one line he just _could not cross_. Even if it meant Jack wouldn't be in as much pain. 

Bless him, Jack understood and didn't hold the extra minutes of suffering against Ianto. Or, at least, he'd _said_ he didn't when they'd talked about it relatively early on. After Ianto had spent over an hour watching Jack die, then proceeded to suffer a nervous breakdown once he had successfully revived. And Jack never _seemed_ cross with him for just sitting back, but Ianto didn't imagine anyone could enjoy suffering whilst someone watched on instead of helping. 

Well, watching would only torture himself, so Ianto got up and did another security check of the premises, unspeakably grateful for Jack's gun, which the bloody idiot took with him _everywhere_. Probably worried about something like this happening, really, which was just valid enough that Ianto wished he was half so paranoid. 

(He didn't, not really; Jack had been alive long enough to settle into his particular brand of paranoia, but Ianto much preferred keeping his armaments to nothing more than a thermos of hot coffee and some snacks for a quiet stroll with his boyfriend.) 

"Next date night we'll be having _indoors_ ," Ianto said, just loud enough for Jack to hear him if he was currently alive. 

That burble of blood was _definitely_ intended to be a laugh; Ianto sincerely hoped that the fact that he could better understand the intended noise, meant Jack was mending. 

After not quite another five steps, Jack called, "Ianto." Then proceeded to cough and spit out what Ianto could only assume was a mouthful of blood. 

Ianto returned to Jack's side to find him in the process of levering himself into a sitting position, wincing as – Ianto could only assume after one conversation he half-wished he'd never overheard between Jack and Owen – new skin tugged uncomfortably. 

"Here," he said, and offered a hand to help Jack stand, which he accepted with a fond smile that, some days, Ianto wished he'd stop turning on him. Once Jack was standing, Ianto handed over the gun, and Jack's smile turned wry as he checked it over in that quick, miss-nothing way that only someone who'd used the same weapons for far too long could do. 

He didn't holster his gun, however, instead turning his attention to the ruins of his clothing. His expression – especially when he saw the nasty slashes along the sides and back of his precious coat – were worth a snicker, which Ianto wasted no time in providing. 

(He tried very hard to pretend it hadn't come out sounding slightly strained. The brief, helpless quirk of a smile from Jack in response helped, just a bit.) 

"So," Jack said after a moment, his voice dropping into the familiar tones of someone used to leading others, "any idea where our friend got to outside?" 

Ianto had a general idea where the alien had hunkered down, and Jack had a general sort of plan to take it out, which involved – of course – using himself as the bait and trusting in Ianto to make the shot at what Jack was fairly certain was a weak point in its armoured hide. 

As was true with many of Jack's plans, he died again, howling and grappling with the alien like a man deranged, which kept it distracted long enough for Ianto to get the kill-shot off. 

"Well," Jack said once he'd revived, still about a third under the alien, because Jack was not a light man, the alien was heavy, and Ianto's spike of adrenaline during the brief fight hadn't lasted nearly long enough, "that was fun." 

"I will shoot you," Ianto muttered, because he was tired and stressed and just wanted to go back to the bunker, curl up with Jack, and listen to his heartbeat until one or both of them fell asleep. 

Jack cast him an assessing look while he worked his legs out from under the alien. "I'd deserve it," he decided once he was free. 

"You would." 

Jack cleared his throat, glanced briefly at the alien, then turned a hopeful sort of smile on Ianto. "So, back to Torchwood for coffee and we can send the others to pick up this lovely fella?" 

"Back to Torchwood for _sandwiches and sleep_ ," Ianto corrected. 

"And sending the others to clean up." 

"Yes." 

Jack's grin was blindingly happy, and Ianto wanted to simultaneously smile back and refuse the hand he was holding down to help him up. In the end, he let Jack help him with a scowl, then ushered his extremely irritating boyfriend out ahead of him with the man's own gun. 

Of course, it would turn out that there'd been _two_ of the aliens – "A _mated pair_! I should have guessed that was why the other one was so hostile," Jack said with equal amounts delight and horror as they ran for where they'd parked the vehicle – and it was a bit of a miracle they made it back to the main road alive. They ended up staying nearby, waiting for Gwen, Tosh, and Owen to show up, and the five of them handled the aliens together. 

By the time they made it back to the bunker, Ianto was beyond irritated, Jack looked a right bloody mess, and the others didn't look too chuffed, either. 

At least, once they'd all cleaned up and the others had gone home, Ianto got his cuddle time with his extremely irritating and thankfully _not dead_ (for good, at least) boyfriend. So the day wasn't a _complete_ waste. 

"Movie and popcorn in the bunker next week?" Jack mumbled as Ianto was drifting off. 

"Deal." 

(With their luck, they'd have a rift breach in the middle of the office area, but that was a concern for a different day.)

.


End file.
